Strings Of Harmony

♫38♫ Thanks For Killing A Dozen Trees, You Asshole

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Thanks For Killing A Dozen Trees, You Asshole

 

“Well I guess it’s been a while…Since I’ve seen the sunshine; since I have smiled. And me, who’s so well versed…Is feeling so damn empty; is at a loss for words. Forgot what it’s like to just to feel okay…I’m praying for the day when there is no more rain. And I don’t wanna do anything but cry …Oh, and I don’t wanna do anything but cry…” I softly sang aloud to myself, as I stared blankly at the ceiling. I hurt all over—metaphorically speaking. And what made it worse was the fact that I didn’t have my guitar anywhere near me. I have no idea where it went. I could’ve sworn I had it with me yesterday… “Well I hardly feel alive…I’m going through the motions…But I don’t feel like trying. The hole in my heart is growing bigger by the day. I wish that I could crawl inside; hide away…and I—”

“Jules?” My mom tentatively asked, as she gently pushed open my bedroom door.

I stopped singing so I could answer her. “Yeah mom?” I asked, as I tried to hide my swollen eyes from her. Even though it’s been over a day since I last saw Carson, I was still crying like crazy.

Gosh, I’m starting to act like one of those pathetic, overly clichéd, teenage girl who’d lock herself in her room and cry her eyes out all day.

“Are you alright?”

“If I’m going to be honest with you, I’m not. My heart hurts; I feel as if someone stabbed it and crumpled it up into their hands. I can’t feel anything anymore; I feel numb, and my eyes are as swollen as marshmallows.”

My mom smiled sadly at me. “Juliet, I know this may be a bit awkward for me to ask you this, but do you like him?”

I froze at her words. “W-what?”

“Do you like him?”

“Of course not,” I said, through gritted teeth, but something about my words didn’t ring true.

My mom seemed to have sensed the falseness in my voice as well because she said, “Lying to yourself isn’t going to do anything.”

“Oh yeah? Well if I keep telling myself that I don’t like him, then maybe I will end up not liking him anymore. I just need some time. Give me a few weeks and I’ll be over him.”

My mom raised an eyebrow disbelievingly at me but didn’t say anything. Silence ensued as we just sat there on my bed, lost in our own thoughts.

Suddenly, my mom said, “He came by a few minutes ago…”

“Good for him,” I grumbled.

“He wanted me to give you this.” My mom handed me a tiny, square-shaped envelope.

I took it into my hands and made an attempt to throw it across my room, but my mom quickly stopped me. “He looked as if he was crying, Jules.”

“So? What does that have to do with me?”

“It means he must really like you. I mean, if you got a boy all worked-up like that, then wow, he must really be attached to you.” My mom sighed wistfully. “If only your father was like that, then I would’ve fallen even harder for him.” My mom chuckled and shook her head. “Anyways, don’t throw it; read it.” My mom gave me a quick peck on the forehead before heading out of my room.

I guess curiosity took over and before I knew it, I found myself staring at a handwritten letter.

Do people even do these anymore? I thought people wrote e-mails or texts nowadays.